Posting, post-Lent

In spite of myself, I found my fingers leafing through my CDs and going for my copy of The Madz's "Acclamation", that well-loved compilation of religious hymns ("I Will Sing Forever", "Anima Christi", and "Panalangin sa Pagiging Bukas-Palad" are my favorites), pushing the play button, walking into the porch, sitting on my tiny stool, and falling into reflection at the beautiful strains of the choir's impeccably-blended voices. I was grateful for the quiet that only an early morning can bestow, the mild sunlight, the pause that the world takes come Holy Week.

Even as I have learned, over the years, that religion is in one's heart, or that respect for all kinds of faiths is the right thing to cultivate, or that prayer is best done heartfelt and not through routine and custom, I still found myself pulled in by the impressions of muteness that had embraced my side of the world, saw my much, much younger self lost in a sea of people, staring down at a dusty road peopled by people's shod feet, trailing the heels of a life-sized figure of a Mary Magdalene decked in a deep-blue, bejeweled cassock, the scent of burning candles saturating the air, the drone of prayers and conversation filtered by a warm summer breeze, that younger self walking, walking, feeling the ache in her feet, but trudging on despite the dust in her new sandals, because Mama said to keep walking, and besides, friends (who had decided they would rather be St. Peter's disciples because he was first to go) waited somewhere along the fringes of the church, where there was promise of five-peso hotcakes and softdrinks-in-plastic later, endless chatter on the way home, where Dad and Mom waited, a cup of hot tablea chocolate on the table.

Oh, but how far back it was I had gone. I had not meant to. And I didn't mean to, now, thinking of that peaceful morning when I was pensive and quiet. I didn't mean to look that far back, not with the distance cleaving those two worlds. But I long to cross the chasm. If only time weren't so locked in. I would have jumped, head-on, if jumping meant going back.